


Fall Out Boy and Finals

by haleyisafangirl (haleingoutside)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I am Jily trash, fall out boy - Freeform, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleingoutside/pseuds/haleyisafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Surviving on eight cups of coffee a day, she could handle. Drowning in flash cards and highlighters and vocabulary terms she would forget within forty-eight hours, she could handle. She could even handle barely seeing her roommates, who were also her closest friends, for only a few minutes at a time, except for the rare occasions when they were studying for the same class.</p>
<p>But the one thing Lily Evans couldn’t handle during finals week was some insane rock band blasting from a dorm two doors down."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Out Boy and Finals

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to everyone who knows the pain of finals week! My exams studying playlist this year included quite a lot of Fall Out Boy, which was surprising, and my new love for this band that is nothing like my usual taste of music spawned this story. Hope you enjoy! (Also dedicated to Nora Bora - happy birthday baebs!)

“That’s it,” Lily huffed as she stood from her spot on the floor.

“Lils, no,” one of her roommates Mary begged. But the fiesty redhead was already determined, and there was no stopping her once she set her mind on something. Of course, it was also finals week, and that certainly didn’t help her naturally short temper. Mary watched on helplessly as Lily disappeared out the door and slammed it shut.

Once in the hallway, she was fuming even more, if that was possible. Surviving on eight cups of coffee a day, she could handle. Drowning in flash cards and highlighters and vocabulary terms she would forget within forty-eight hours, she could handle. She could even handle barely seeing her roommates, who were also her closest friends, for only a few minutes at a time, except for the rare occasions when they were studying for the same class.

But the one thing Lily Evans couldn’t handle during finals week was some insane rock band blasting from a dorm two doors down.

She stomped down the hall, practically mowing down a few freshmen who looked to be suffering from finals week themselves. Upon reaching the door, she didn’t just knock. She banged her fist against it so hard that whatever idiot was residing inside couldn’t help but hear, even over their insanely loud music.

_“She wants to dance like Uma Thurman…”_ a voice was singing to some ridiculous clapping pattern. The door swung open, and Lily didn’t even look into the face of the dorm’s occupant. She marched right past, over a pile of textbooks on the floor, and to the stereo.

Unfortunately, it was a rather complicated stereo, and she wasn’t exactly technologically proficient. After a moment of struggling as it screamed at her _“I can move mountains,”_ she finally turned to the boy in the doorway. “How the _hell_ do you turn this thing off?!” she screamed before her brain had a chance to take in the boy’s appearance.

Holy crap.

She had to go and yell at the hottest boy on the planet.

He looked a little taken aback, and the confusion knit together his perfect eyebrows above his adorable glasses. Probably from studying, his hair looked like he had raked his hands through it a million times. Lily was surprised when she realized that she wanted to, too, and shook the feeling to be able to yell at him some more.

“Is there a problem?” the boy shouted over the music. The stereo was now blasting out a melody about a _“black ski mask song,”_ and it sounded more like robots at a dentist’s office than actual music.

“I can hear whatever this crap is all the way from my room. I can’t study. At all!”

The boy marched right on over and quickly turned the volume way down on the stereo. The singer, whose range was a bit impressive, she had to admit, was now singing, _“I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare.”_ It was at a much more reasonable decibel level, though, so Lily understood the boy perfectly clearly when he turned to her and asked, “What do you mean, Fall Out Boy is crap?”

It took Lily a moment to realize that he wasn’t joking. He actually believed it was good music, and he actually didn’t think himself in the wrong for playing it so loud. “I’m fairly certain you’re the only person on the planet who considers this quality music,” she informed him, “and if not, I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re the only one who considers this a reasonable studying playlist.”

The boy ran a hand through his messy black hair in frustration. “This is how I focus,” he said, just a hint of anger flashing through his hazel eyes. “If you can’t handle it, I think that’s your problem.”

“ _My_ problem?” Lily half-shouted. “What about the _entire rest of the building_?”

“Oi, James,” another male voice shouted from within the hall to Lily’s right. He sounded even more annoyed than the boy standing in front of her, who responded that he was handling it.

Lily couldn’t tell you afterward what it was about this that set her off. His phrasing, perhaps, or the hysteria that always results from finals week, or the fact that she happened to have taken her Women’s Studies final the day before. Either way, being “handled” didn’t exactly go over well with her.

“What exactly are you _handling_ , huh?” Lily exclaimed. “Just some crazy girl who can’t deal with your manly punk-rock band?”

The boy, who Lily now deduced was named James, started shaking his head. “That’s not what I--”

But unfortunately for James, Lily was now on a sleep-deprivation-induced roll, and her tirade was nowhere near finished. “I’ll show you!” she screamed. “Misogynistic pig, thinking that just because I’m a girl I can’t like your screamo band.”

“They’re really not screamo--” he attempted to interrupt. The expression on his face was much less annoyed and indignant now; it was more terror and regret that he had ever opened his mouth in the presence of such a vengeful human being.

“I’ve just had it with boys! You’re all ridiculous! First I’m not good enough to be a doctor just because I have boobs, then I’m not good enough for your stupid band because I bleed on a monthly basis!”

“Isn’t this a bit inappropriate to discuss with a stranger--”

“Oh, no, I am through with being thought of as less just because I’m a girl! I am going to prove you wrong, James Whoeveryouare!” Lily stomped out of the room in a huff, the shouts of James behind her barely audible over the sound of Fall Out Boy’s singer screeching, _“Don’t let the doctor in!”_

Just moments later, Lily returned with red hair flying and arms full of books, notebooks, and pens. “What are you doing?” James asked calmly.

“Simple,” Lily replied, getting settled on his sofa, “I’m toppling the patriarchy by studying in your dorm while listening to this band that’s apparently not for girls.”

The look in James’s eyes was rather like the expression of a man staring at a sleeping dragon: cautious and very afraid. For several moments, he looked like he was debating whether or not to speak; finally, he settled on, “You do know that I never said anything of the sort, right?” Lily blinked a few times, evidently confused. He continued, “I mean, you sort of just came in here like a whirlwind and starting yelling about how misogynistic I am.”

_“We could be immortals,”_ the stereo was now bellowing.

“I, er…” Lily began, suddenly embarrassed and feeling her cheeks turn as red as her hair. She gave a great sigh that made James chuckle as she looked down at the sofa cushions. “I am so sorry,” she finally relented. “I guess it’s been a long week.”

James couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as Lily bit her lip and looked back up at him. He took a step toward her, this bloody gorgeous girl who had swept into his room and then made herself at home on his couch. “You know what would make it better?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and letting his signature smirk take over.

“What?” Lily asked warily.

But James had already turned and begun shuffling through the playlist on his phone, apparently trying to select the right track. “The lyrics to this one are ‘We are wild, we are like young volcanoes… something something something do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby. It’s my favorite and by far the best for dancing.”

“What do you mean dancing?” Lily asked. She looked around at the room in front of her: the space was cramped, as space usually is in a college dorm, even though their building had the larger dorms meant for four people. They were in the main living area, but it looked more like pigs lived there: the coffee table was barely visible underneath a stack of plates, mugs, papers, and textbooks. Loose sheets of paper littered the entire ground. A half-eaten pizza lay in its box on an armchair in the corner. It looked like a tornado, aside from the one she had caused with her outbursts, had swept through the room; all in all, not a good space for dancing.

Then Lily looked down at herself and bit back a laugh. If the room was unsuitable for dancing, then she was completely out of the question even for a head bob. She had forgotten her messy bun, glasses, and tee shirt and athletic shorts with no shoes attire in the heat of her one-sided argument, but now it all came flooding back to her. She realized with a little regret that she was sitting on the couch of the most gorgeous boy she had ever laid eyes on… and she looked one step short of a straight-up hag. It was absolutely more annoyance than insecurity, because she knew that she was actually ridiculously gorgeous; the problem was that her current appearance wasn’t exactly a component of her ideal first impression, especially for a hot boy.

But you know what, this was finals week, and she was tired and deserved a little break and what stories would she have to tell her children someday if she didn’t accept offers to dance in the living rooms of strangers? (Maybe that was a terrible philosophy, but her tired mind didn’t care.) “I should warn you,” she informed James as she stood, “I’m rubbish at both singing and dancing.” He grinned and turned up the volume on the stereo again.

“Then it’s good I won’t be able to hear you!” he shouted.

And he grabbed her hands and spun her around the room and they screamed the lyrics they didn’t know at the top of their lungs. (It would become “their song” later, but they didn’t know it at the time.) When the three minutes and twenty-four seconds of “Young Volcanoes” finished, they collapsed onto the sofa, breathing heavily and laughing uncontrollably.

“I’m James,” he yelled over the noise of Pete Wentz going on to sing, _“There’s a room in a hotel in New York City.”_

“Lily,” she introduced herself, offering her hand. They shook, and it dawned on each that this was a rather bizarre introduction. James continued to laugh as Lily shook her head, erupting in giggles every few moments. They really should be studying, she thought, until she continued by thinking that there was really nothing she wanted to do less than study.

Neither knew that it was the first of many living room dancing sessions to come. Neither knew that when they told their story to their son Harry, they’d say they fell in love to Fall Out Boy. For now, it was just a loud band, luckily short tempers, the chaos of finals, and a very welcome companion to get through it with.

 

**Author's Note:**

> That was probably a poorly written mess, but hey, what can you do? AP exams are frying my brain and I needed some Jily in my life. Hope you enjoyed and didn't find it as incoherent as I did while editing! 
> 
> Much love,  
> haleyisafangirl


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